


Muse

by grimcognito



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers - MTMTE, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holiday gift-fic for zuzeca! Post-war Megatron/Optimus fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zuzeca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzeca/gifts).



“What is this?” Megatron asked, clawed digits dragging through the not-quite-there of Optimus’ subspace. An intimacy he hadn’t been allowed in millenia. It showed a level of trust that, war over or not, he hadn’t believed he’d ever earn again. Optimus never failed to surprise him.

“Hmm?” Optimus answered, too busy mapping out the curved and pointed edges of plating along Megatron’s back with his fingertips to pay much attention. Though he froze when Megatron wrapped a hand around the object and pulled it out. A data slate, and a very specific model.

Even more curious now, Megatron raised a brow and held it up. “Is this what I think it is?”

Optimus hesitated, then vented a soft sigh of air and nodded. “An external memory file storage unit. I… there were things I did not need clouding my judgement during the war, but that I treasured too much to erase completely.”

At Megatron’s obvious struggle to not completely invade Optimus’ privacy, Optimus’ optics brightened in amusement, smiling with his mouth as well when it caused Megatron to glare. “You may look at them if you like.”

Pushing aside the automatic reaction to do exactly the opposite of what he was given permission to do, Megatron narrowed his optics further at Optimus, who was looking far too pleased with himself now. He grunted in answer and tapped the screen with a touch he’d learned to be delicate with. It had taken some practice not to stab through the fragile screens of the newer data slates, and he much prefered these older, sturdier models. Several neatly organized files appeared all predating the war, though they were all after Optimus had met him.

He pressed the first one and after a moment, his own voice, not nearly so worn and rough as it was now, played through the speakers. He actually couldn’t place the memory file in his own memory banks until the third verse, his optics wide as he stared into Optimus’, silent as he listened to the first poem he’d ever read Orion Pax.

The recording finished, and he skipped to the fifth one, opened it, and heard another poem, this one he remembered clearly. He didn’t let that one finish, but continued through, tapping on file after file, some with video feeds to go with them, all of them poetry he’d read himself. Every single one he’d written and read to Orion Pax, all the way to the very last one before Orion had become a Prime. He’d stopped writing them after that.

He hadn’t remembered there being so many.

It wasn’t until he closed the last file that he noticed he was venting warm air a bit faster than usual, his brows pressed toward each other and the unfamiliar sensation of wearing an uncertain expression. Optimus was watching him closely, bright optics darting across his features, a hint of worry in his fields.

“You kept these all this time?” Of course he had, the evidence was in his hand, but still. The thought that Optimus had held onto these memory files, rather than simply erase them all together. He wasn’t quite sure what that made him feel, but it was warm and made his spark pulse oddly.

Optimus smiled softly. “Of course. And I have missed them. I always did look forward to the day when I could listen to all of my favorites freely once more.”

Megatron stared at him, and suddenly, a line of prose, the first he’d thought of in longer than he cared to think about, drifted through his processor. Another, and he was already trying to piece together more. He felt the corner of his mouth tilt up into a half-smile before he took hold of Optimus’ helm and smothered his sudden urge to smile with a kiss.

For the first time since he took the name Megatron, he truly wanted to write.

**Author's Note:**

> Standard Disclaimers Apply- I own nothing and claim nothing from the Transformers franchise, IDW or Hasbro. This is a work of fiction made purely for fun and that makes no profit.


End file.
